Strawberry Wine
by KatieMcEntire
Summary: Reba meets Brock one summer when she's visiting her grandparent's farm. It was most definitely NOT love at first sight.


**A/N: I do not own the Reba and Brock characters. All other characters are my own creation.**

**_Strawberry Wine_**

Seventeen-year-old Reba McKinney stood out on the front porch of her Papaw and Grandmom's farmhouse in Chockie, Oklahoma with a suitcase in either hand. She had been coming to the farm every summer since she was a little girl. The big, red barn still stood out in the field, the horse corral was still where it was last summer, the big oak tree still stood out by the dirt road. But there was something different about the place this time. As she looked towards the barn, she saw someone out there baling hay. She knew it wasn't her Papaw because the person out there had hair and Papaw didn't. She could tell it was a man but that's about all she could make out. It was too far away.

Deciding she would find out later, she took a deep breath of the cool July evening air and looked at the beautiful sunset that was in the sky. There were reds and oranges and pinks covering the sky like the scene in a painting. It was a perfect day.

Reba smiled, happy to finally be at the farm. She loved it here. She loved the horses (her horse especially), the lake where she would go swimming, the barn where she would go to sing, and the farmhouse where her and Grandmom would bake on Sunday afternoons.

She took a step forward and knocked on the chipped green screen door and peered inside. The front door was almost never closed. A second later, she saw Grandmom and Papaw rounding the corner, coming from the kitchen. Grandmom opened the door with a smile and open arms.

"There she is!" Grandmom exclaimed and circled her into a hug. Grandmom wore her trademark purple dress and yellow rain boots. Her hair was tinted with read and wrinkles marked her face.

"You've grown since we last saw ya, Foxy," Papaw observed, using her childhood nickname. Papaw stood at a small five foot six and wore overalls all the time. He always had a pipe sticking out of his mouth and a small comb-over on the top of his head.

"I have," Reba admitted. "I'm almost a high school graduate." She smiled at the thought . She couldn't wait to get out of school and start her singing career.

"Well," Grandmom said, ushering her granddaughter inside. "Leave your stuff by the staircase and let's go eat. Supper's on the table."

Reba left her suitcases where she was instructed to and made her way into the kitchen.

The kitchen was small with black and white square tiles on the floor and green ceramic countertops. Nothing matched, not even the three chairs that sat around the small eating table in the middle of the room. But it made the space more homey.

Reba sat down at the spread before her. Fried chicken, mashed potaoes, green beans, dinner rolls, corn on the cob, and polk salad, which was a leafy green that was picked wild and could kill you if it wasn't cooked just right.

"Go on," Papaw said in his thick, Oklahoma accent. "Eat a bit. You're too frail."

"Have some chicken," Grandmom suggested and passed the platter. "I made it myself."

Reba helped herself to a little bit of everything and began the dinner conversation.

"So," She asked. "Who's out baling hay? Friend of yours?"

"He's hired help," Papaw said. "I can't work the farm like I used to."

"He's a really hard worker," Grandmom said.

"Eh," Papaw scoffed, waving his hand. "I'm thinkin' 'bout lettin' the kid go. He ain't interested in this kind of work."

"Earl," Grandmom said. "Now don't you go making snap decisions. That boy is a good worker."

"He's a dentist."

"No, he's not," Grandmom argued. "Not yet, anyway."

"He's going to school to be one," Papaw told her. "He should be a real doctor and maybe save a life instead of fixin' teeth. I've lived without going to the dentist for seventy two years and I'm right fine."

Grandmom rolled her eyes, giving up on the argument and turned to Reba. "He's single," She told her granddaughter. "With a rear-end like a pair of honey-dew melons."

"That boy is twenty years old," Papaw said gruffly. "He's too old for her."

"Don't worry, Papaw," Reba said. "I don't want a boyfriend."

"Good," Papaw said, beginning to eat again. "You're too young. You ain't even finished your schoolin'."

"What's his name?" Reba asked.

"Brock Hart," Grandmom replied. "He's just as nice as the day is long. He lives in that trailer up the road a'piece. Comes down to work at seven in the morning and doesn't leave until dark. Even comes to dinner once in a while."

"How does he go to school if he's always here?" Reba asked.

Grandmom shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sure he handles it very well though. He's a hard worker."

Just as soon as that was said, there was a knock at the door then a voice. "Anybody here?" It yelled.

"Come in, dear!" Grandmom yelled. She then turned to Reba. "That's him. Wait till you get a good look."

A second later, a boy of about twenty with tan skin and golden blonde hair. He was very muscular and wore a mischevious, crooked smile. "Evenin', Kate," The boy said to Grandmom. "Any supper left for me?"

"Foxy," Papaw said. "Get that boy somethin' to eat, would ya?"

Reba stood and headed to the cabinet to get a plate. As she began to close the cabinet, she heard Brock say, "Get me a beer, too."

Reba turned around, aggravated that someone would speak to her like that. "Excuse me?"

"A beer," He repeated. "Alcohol."

He sat down at Reba's seat.

"Well," Reba said, slamming his plate before him. "Let me tell you something, whoever you think you are, I don't--"

She was cut off by Grandmom by saying, "I'll get it for him. You just go on outside for a second."

Reba put her hands on her hips. "But he needs to know that--"

"Out," Grandmom said.

Reba stomped off outside and waited on the porch. How dare that boy talk to her that way? He didn't know who she was. She owned part of that farm he was working on and he had no right to just demand something of her.

She was about to march right back in that house and give him a piece of her mind when the screen door opened and Grandmom stepped out.

"What was all that in there?" Reba nearly yelled. "He had no right to just demand something of me!"

"I know, dear," Grandmom said. "But you're a woman and the woman's job is to take care of the man."

"He ain't my man."

"Dear, he's had a long day. He's worked in the hot sun for hours. Don't you think you could have just given him what he asked for without going postal on him?"

"Going postal?!"

"Calm down." Grandmom pointed at Reba. "Don't you be yellin' at me, young lady. Now, I know he's not very respectful but he's a man and he's over a woman."

"That's not right, though!"

"I know it but that's the way things are. That's the way everything works."

"Somebody needs to change it."

"You're right but unfortunately, nobody is doing anything about it."

"Well, maybe I will."

Just then, the screen door flew open and almost hit Reba in the face. Brock came barreling out. "Thanks for dinner, Kate!" He yelled at Grandmom as he jogged away. "Bye, Foxy!" He yelled a second later.

Reba turned to Grandmom in anger. She hated to be called that unless it was Papaw who was calling her that. "What is his problem?" She asked. "He's really rubbing me the wrong way."

Grandmom put her arm around her granddaughter and as they walked back into the house she said, "He likes you, dear. Get to know him and you'll see what I mean."

_End of chapter..._

**Hello again! I'm here with a new story! Don't worry, I am still writing "Walk The Line" and I will never abandon it. I just had the feeling that I needed to post this story because it's one of my favorites that I've written. The Grandmom and Papaw characters are mine so please don't steal. I hope you enjoy it and please review! I love to read 'em! Thanks!**

**xoxo Katie :)**


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